Bad Luck
by Chocoholic Minion
Summary: Sandy Payne has a dead family, a smoking problem, and—hands down—the worst luck in the world. She thought that coming to a camp for kids like her might be her break at last, but instead she got a brother she could not live up to and a crush who brought back memories, and apparently she was the lamest demigod ever known to god or man. This is just her luck. T because I swear. Leo/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! This is my first story. I'm not even sure this will work because I'm literally uploading this two seconds after I wrote it, and it's four in the morning and I think I might come to regret this when I wake up later. Regardless, I'm really glad to be here, I love writing and books and fanfiction, et cetera. This story happens after the Giant War, and we're going to have to casually pretend that Caleo didn't happen... (I'm sorry Calypso! You know I love you! I just love Leo more!) Okay, I'll get out of your way. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

SANDY

I wish I could say that my problems began the day my social worker told me my father was a god, but while I have been many things—a thief, a troublemaker, a brawler, a delinquent—I am not a liar. The fact of the matter was that my problems began the day I was born, intensified when my mother died, doubled when my stepfather died, and started increasing exponentially when my extended family gave social services the all-clear to treat me like a bag of laundry. The only man I could rely on in my life turning out to be crazy was just another bonus.

It has been said that the Payne family had the shittiest luck in the world. It was said by a man who I found two weeks later hanging from a fire escape with a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. My mother broke her own neck in a drunken accident, my older one-foot-in-the-reformatory brother was stabbed in a gang fight, my stepfather was murdered, and I ran into everything that could possibly go wrong with foster care (including somehow having all my data deleted and repeatedly getting switched up with another girl whose _real_ name was Sandy). Misfortune plagued our family. It was a given.

So when Myles sat me down and told me, with a completely straight face, that Greek mythology is real and that he was going to send me to a camp for demigods like myself, my immediate reaction was: _not again_.

"Um," I said, not sure what to say. "Myles, I thought you were the one who always told me that drugs will mess up my head."

Myles looked at me with serious eyes. His age was hard to pinpoint—in fact, a lot of things about Myles was hard to pinpoint. He was simply so unassuming that one could stare at him for three hours and then promptly forget about him the minute one looked away. "This isn't a joke, Cynthia."

Only Myles ever called me Cynthia.

"I'm not saying it is," I said, wondering how long it would be until he grinned and shouted "April Fools!" and then drove me to my next foster home. I had never lasted longer than three months in one home until something I did—maybe knocking over a cabinet or breaking a plate or spilling soda on the carpet, something usually attributed to lack of coordination—convinced the foster parents of the "bad luck" rumors about me and that sending me back was the safest choice.

Myles sighed and picked up his briefcase. "Come on, you'll see."

I focused on ignoring the "you'll see" and told myself that he'd gotten the point—that it was not April Fools' Day and I was tired and really not in the mood for his jokes. Or that he was stoned, which was at least safer than insanity. I'd dealt first-hand with stoned people. Insane people, I wasn't so sure about.

We got into the car and listened to Myles strange musical tastes—everything that everyone else in the century had forgotten about—and sat silently, me playing with a backpack that held all that I could firmly call my own, him whistling off beat.

But then we kept driving out of the city and out into the country, until there was nothing around but farm land around us and I began to wonder if I had to use my jackknife on the man who had kept a roof over my head most of the time for the past four years. I stuck my hands in my hoodie pocket and shifted carefully so I could watch Myles and both of his hands.

And Myles abruptly stopped whistling. He looked at the rearview mirror nervously. "You're thirteen years old now," he said, unsettled, while I kept my hand on my knife. Please let me be overreacting, I thought. Please let there be some obscure farmer couple who decided they wanted to adopt a juvenile delinquent. Or some group home full of padded cells where my "bad luck" would stop killing people around me.

"Yup," I said, keeping my tone as light as possible. "Officially a teenager. I guess you should be scared now."

Myles glanced at me, distracted, and in that moment of distraction his hands were so tense the car nearly swerved off the road. "Sorry, sorry," he said, glancing at the rearview mirror again as if he was afraid of being followed. "I just—it's very hard for me to explain right now—in a bit of a crisis—"

"Myles," I said, giving up all pretenses of normalcy. He'd been acting strange the entire day, and if this was a joke, I would kill him. "You're scaring me."

And right on cue, something landed on the roof of the car and the tires skidded out of control and Myles starting screaming. Because that was just my luck.

[IMAGINE FANCY LINE/DIVIDING SYMBOL]

"Get out! Get out of the car!" Myles was shouting.

I was curled up in my seat, hands over my ears, waiting for something to squash me or eat me or kill me in some unlucky fashion. Myles reached over, unbuckled my seatbelt, and shoved me. "Go! Run up that hill to that tree! I'll catch up with you!"

Then he slammed the brakes. The car spun on the road, but thankfully didn't tip over. Without waiting to see if I'd move, Myles opened the door and jumped out and ran away, and because I knew immediately that he'd lied when he said "I'll catch up with you," I stayed to watch what he was doing.

"Over here!" Myles shouted, waving his arms wildly. "Come get me!"

You have got to be joking, I thought.

The roof of the car creaked. I stopped thinking. Something launched itself toward Myles, and I had to slap my hands over my mouth to stop my scream.

The beast had the head of a lion, the hindquarters of a goat, and a snake as a tail. It was the size of your average truck and it is beyond my comprehension why the car roof didn't cave in. Maybe Myles was good at picking sturdy cars. I don't know. I will never know, because if I wasn't hallucinating Myles had just shouted at a _chimera_ to _come get him_.

Oh, shit.

I forgot all about watching what Myles was doing. _Run up that hill to that tree. Run up that hill to that tree._ The words ran through my head while I fumbled with the door handle, face-planted onto the grass outside, clambered ungracefully to my feet, grabbed my backpack, and started to run. I might not be coordinated, but I could run.

What's that, you say? It's cowardice to run away like this?

Well, I better send cowardice a fruit basket then, because it kept me alive.

There was a pine tree ahead of me, at the top of the hill. I failed to understand how that was going to save me from a bloody chimera, but in my blind panic I didn't care. As I stumbled up to the pine tree, I heard a horrible, piercing scream behind me, and I knew it was Myles but I couldn't look back. _Run up that hill to that tree. Run up that hill to that tree. I had to be in shock from the car accident. Maybe I'm hallucinating. Run up that hill to that tree._ There was another scream, which was abruptly cut off, and there was a roar that somehow sounded like very loud fire.

And then I stopped wondering what was happening behind me, because what was happening in front of me—a dragon uncurling itself from the base of the pine tree—took up all my concentration.

Please be a dream, please be a dream, please be a dream.

The dragon unfurled its wings and stood up to its full height, and it was not a bloody dream.

I will not lie. I screamed my head off, though somewhere in the back of my mind, my guilty conscience was shouting _Justice!_. I abandoned Myles to one monster. I got eaten by another. It seemed only fair, in a gruesome way, though fairness didn't keep me from falling on my butt in a pathetic fashion.

What can I say? It was just my luck.

I kept screaming, holding onto my backpack because I'll be damned if I lost it after lugging it up the hill, scrambling backwards on my hands and knees. The dragon came towards me—but, in my red haze of fear, I realized that it wasn't looking at me, but over me. Something shrieked behind me. The dragon shrieked right back and left my ears ringing. And then the dragon launched itself into the sky. I watched, craning my neck, as it flew over me—it really was quite beautiful, if not for the fact that it wasn't supposed to be real—and watched as it descended on the other beast in a fury of fire and claws.

Perhaps I should have kept watching the chimera-versus-dragon epic battle, because that really didn't happen every day, but I caught sight of something bloody and burnt, looking like nothing more than a smear on the ground, and my brain ceased all function.

Oh, shit. Shitshitshit. This can't be happening, I thought—or maybe I even said it out loud. Only the Payne family's supposed to have this bad luck. Myles shouldn't have been caught in it. It wasn't fair. None of this was his fault, and now his friends and family are going to have to scrap him off the ground to give him a funeral. This is just my luck. And for the second time in as many hours I thought: _not again_.

And then I passed out, because—you got it—it was just my luck.

* * *

**Like I said, I literally just wrote this and this is my first time for anything on Fanfiction, so if there are any mistakes—if there appears to be anything I'm doing wrong—if you liked it—if you hated it—if you want to ask me what I had for breakfast (actually... I cannot for the life of me remember... well, crap.)—if you think I'm crazy—if you think I need chocolate (who doesn't?)—if you hate run-ons like this—please tell me! Flames symbolize my love for Leo Valdez and will be fervently appreciated! **

**Also, I'm rather OCD, so don't be surprised if I keep updating to fix minor mistakes (which, actually, I have been doing. It's five in the morning now. I am brilliant) (That was sarcasm. I'm not much for self-promotion.). Very big on polishing. I'm an extreme Grammar Nazi, so if you spot any grammatical errors, I'll be more than glad to know.**

**Chocolate makes the world go 'round! Thank you and good night!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AND... I'm back! And it appears that I don't regret my strange middle-of-the-night yes-I-am-secretly-a-bat actions enough to delete this story, so we're plowing right on ahead! Thank you for people who followed and reviewed! Yes, I am an attention whore and I love it when people pay attention to me. Blame human nature.**

**Two important things I must warn you about me:**

**1. I constantly go back to previous chapter(s) to change minor details and fix minor mistakes. The general gist of the text won't change, but if you feel like something feels a bit fishy, it's probably because I went back and switched something up for the sake of future plot. Many apologies in advance.**

**2. My writing will be erratic. If you see this second chapter and say to yourself, "Hey, she seems to update quickly!"... well, don't get your hopes up. I'm the kind of person who would write five chapters in two days and then vanish for weeks. Again, many apologies in advance. Don't get emotionally invested in the story if you hate that.**

**And that's it, thankfully. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

LEO

It was the middle of summer and I thought, for once, that we might get through a day without the threat of Apocalypse.

But no, two minutes into Piper, Jason and I hanging out near the Big House, Harley came running, shouting, "Leo! Leo, come on, you have to see this!" The kid, completely unlike his sister Nyssa, was hyper/extremely caffeinated two hundred percent of the time, and if a metal bug so much as twitched in Bunker Nine, he made it known to the entire world.

This time, though, there appeared to be something actually happening, because people were starting to crowd in the direction of the tree. Jason and Piper looked at each other in that couple we-can-read-each-other's-thoughts way, while I tried to do it with myself without looking like a psycho/idiot. "What's going on?" Jason finally asked a nearby Ares camper.

"I don't know," the boy—Sherman?—admitted. He was too distracted to even try to sound nasty. "But Harley's running around screaming 'Look what the dragon dragged in!', so I'm heading there to look."

"Peleus?" Jason asked, blinking, but Sherman had already disappeared. It was just starting to get dark, and I couldn't see the tree well. "Come on, let's go."

My mind raced with possibilities. What had Peleus dragged in? A dead monster? A car? A lady dragon he was seeing somewhere? Campers were gathered around the figures of Chiron and Will Solace, crouched by the tree, which usually wasn't a good thing. But Will Solace was smiling and gesturing easily, and Chiron was speaking to Annabeth.

"Excuse me—pardon me—getting through—sorry—" the ever-so-courteous Jason said as he elbowed people aside. People reluctantly made way, which meant that Jason, Piper and I stepped up to Chiron just as he said, "Who can carry this girl to the infirmary? Ah, yes, Jason and Leo, you'll do just fine."

"What?" I yelped.

We leaned down to inspect "what the dragon dragged in." It was a girl, small-framed, unconscious. Her hair was sandy, dirty blond; her face was round and pale, with eyes squeezed shut as if she was afraid of what she would see. She wore faded jeans, scuffed sneakers, and a gray hoodie meant for someone two times her size. One hand held the straps of a worn black backpack; the other was stuck firmly in her hoodie pocket.

"She doesn't seem to be wounded," Chiron said, "so we'll just let her rest in the infirmary. Though," he added quietly, looking out beyond the tree, "I'm going to have to ask her how she survived without a scratch."

I wasn't sure what that meant. I wasn't sure if I was even supposed to hear that last bit. Instead, I gave Jason an _I blame you for this_ look and took hold of the girl's ankles.

And then I had much more to blame Jason for, because that girl lashed out the instant I touched her. Her foot caught me square in the chest, sending me back into—wouldn't you know it—Sherman, who was by then no longer too distracted to shove me into the ground.

"Ow!" I complained, but no one was paying attention to me, because the girl had sat up abruptly, eyes wide, chest heaving. Even winded, I noticed that her eyes were a million shades of blue, large and bright.

"Hi," Annabeth said, gently, bending down to touch the girl's shoulder. The girl pulled back, but Annabeth continued without missing a beat. "You're safe now. This is Camp Half-Blood. I'm Annabeth. What's your name?"

The girl stared at Annabeth with a blank expression. She turned to stare at me, at the people behind me, at Jason and Piper and Chiron and Will Solace. Her mouth was half open. She turned a bit more and stared at the pine tree and Peleus and the grassy hills beyond, and her breath left her harshly. "Oh, shit."

[IMAGINE FANCY LINE/DIVIDING SYMBOL]

"We can explain," Chiron said, later on, when we'd retreated to the Big House and most campers had dispersed. Jason and Piper hung around because they were curious. Percy and Annabeth hung around because they're sort-of leaders and felt obliged to make the girl feel welcome. I hung around because I thought that I still deserved an apology for the feet-to-the-chest thing, because Holy Mother, that hurt. "But I need to know your name first. Please, you can trust us."

"It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice, does it?" the girl shot back. She hadn't batted an eye when she realized that Chiron was a centaur; she'd simply said "Oh, shit," which seemed to be her response to anything. "I'm called Sandy Payne."

Chiron flipped through some papers on the desk in front of him. He'd gone back into wheelchair form, but Sandy Payne still looked like she was muttering oh shit oh shit oh shit in her mind. "Payne—Cynthia Payne?"

The girl's hands twitched. She didn't reply, but instead reached into her pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one up. I stared at her, and I think everyone else did, too, but Sandy/Cynthia didn't seem to notice. "Everyone who insisted on calling me Cynthia is now dead," she finally replied. "I'm Sandy Payne. You decide what you want to call me."

I had never felt such a tense, thick silence.

"Okay, Sandy," Percy finally decided, taking the lead. He stood up and offered a hand to Sandy. "We have an orientation video."

Sandy gazed at Percy's hand until he drew it back with an embarrassed flush. "An orientation video for what?"

"Everything," Percy replied.

"That," Sandy replied immediately this time, "is a bullshit answer if I've ever heard one. An orientation video for what?"

"You'll see," Percy snapped.

"I'm getting really tired of non-answers." Sandy took a long smoke, and Percy looked like she wanted to snatch the death stick and stick it down Sandy's throat. "An orientation video for what?"

The girl sure was on her way to becoming incredibly popular, wasn't she?

"Do you know why you're here? Who brought you here, Sandy?" Percy asked, folding her arms.

"That bloody smear on the road just over the hill," Sandy shot back without missing a beat. "You understand why I might be a bit cautious to do anything when that just happened right outside?"

Annabeth stopped Percy from continuing. "I know this is really confusing and I know there's no reason for you to trust us right now. But I promise the orientation video will answer questions. Questions about your life. Your parents."

"Why they're both dead, you mean?" Sandy's voice was brittle.

"One of them isn't dead," Annabeth told her gently.

Sandy gave her a strange look. "Uh, yes, they are."

Annabeth frowned. "Both your _biological_ parents?"

Sandy leaned forward on her knees. Cigarette ash drifted to the floor. "Lady, when a man has a one-night stand with a woman, and the woman has a child nine months later and can barely remember who the man was, I do not consider that man a parent. Do you?"

Annabeth scowled. "Just come see the orientation video," she snarled. "This isn't going anywhere."

On the contrary, I thought, this conversation was revealing a great deal about Sandy. It was almost as if she dished out this information casually so she would never have to endure anyone asking.

Sandy flicked her cigarette and stood up. She was shorter than I'd realized—four and a half feet, at the most—and her mass of tumbling curls made her look even smaller. "Please, lead the way. You cannot imagine how encouraged I am by your kind words of welcome."

The sarcasm practically crystallized on her words. Annabeth flushed, and this time Percy had to stop her. "In here," he said, tersely.

Sandy followed Percy into the room with the projector I'd recently fixed. Jason, Piper and I sat around the coffee table as Chiron scribbled something on his papers. Annabeth paced restlessly, making frustrated noises that scarily reminded me of Festus. "Um," I said, after yet another awkward silence. "She's interesting."

Piper snorted.

"She's infuriating," Annabeth growled, coming to a halt. "Who does she think she is?"

Yes, Sandy seemed to be acting like an asshole. But I recognized the instinct to isolate herself, as if she was afraid to let anyone get too close, and I had to speak up in her defense. "It's not her fault. She's in foster care."

Chiron looked up. "How did you know that?"

Because people like us could sense each other? Because we could see ourselves in each other? "She said both her parents are dead," I said instead, as if I didn't just realize it myself.

Annabeth threw her arms into the air. "That doesn't give her any right to act this way towards people who'd taken her in. Why—"

She stopped then, because the door opened. Percy came out first. Sandy stepped out, leaned against the door, and looked up at the ceiling. Her face was pale. Her fingers shook as they put the cigarette to her mouth. And guess what she said?

"Oh, shit."

I think I'm seeing a trend here.

* * *

**Yay! Leo-and-Sandy bonding! Once again, if you want to flame, if you want to slap me, if you want to be a great person and see if I've made any ridiculous grammar mistakes, if you want to tell me what you had for breakfast... I'm all ears!**

**Chocolate makes the world go 'round! Thank you and good night!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi again! Apparently I'm a competent enough writer to get past chapter two, so here we are, chugging along!**

**Special THANK-YOU to Benji99 for all your support. I wish I could shower cookies on you like other fanfic writers, but I don't bake, so here's a smileyface instead! :D**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

SANDY

My mind alternated between drowning in information and hiding under the desk muttering, "Shit, shit, shit, and shit." I focused on my cigarette. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Attempt smoke ring. Fail at smoke ring. Breathe in again. Between lung cancer and insanity, lung cancer would last me a bit longer. Probably.

"Sandy," Chiron—the centaur—_centaur_, my God—or is it gods?—said carefully. "How are you feeling?"

I looked at him. Then I looked at the tall, black-haired teenager who'd taken me to the orientation video, at the blond girl—Annabeth—who glared back at me, at the teenagers sitting on the couches. "I have just been informed that the world as I knew it is bullshit made up by magic and that there's no chance the monsters that killed Myles were fictional. How am I feeling? I am feeling shitty and craving liquor, thank you for asking."

Annabeth stepped forward angrily. "Don't speak to him like that!"

But Chiron didn't look pissed. "Annabeth, she's adjusting to new information."

"That doesn't mean she can swear left and right! And smoking's not allowed!"

I did my best to ignore her. "Myles knew about this shit," I said, still addressing the centaur. "He tried to tell me."

Chiron nodded. "Myles was a satyr, but he had weak health, so he had a desk job, so to speak—working as a social worker and keeping an eye out for children who might be demigods—children with ADHD and dyslexia, children like you. He did his best to keep you safe and bring you to camp by the time you turn thirteen."

"Keep me safe…" I thought of the foster homes Myles had put me into and then yanked me out of the second I became attached. I had always assumed that it was because of me, or because of the foster family. I never imagined that Myles would give himself more work on purpose. I should have seen it, though, shouldn't I? "Keep me safe by moving me around so much I feel like a permanent tourist?"

"It kept the monsters off your trail, as well as anyone or anything that might be looking for you. He did his best to hide you." Chiron's voice was smooth, steady, and it made me mad. _The man you're talking about is dead_, I wanted to yell. _He is dead because of me and nobody should have any right to be that calm about it_.

All of a sudden I felt angry at Myles as well. What right did he have to dictate my life? To take away my chance at friends and relationships and a normal childhood?

It immediately made me feel awful. _He kept you alive for four years and you're complaining about it?_ I snapped at myself. _Would you rather be popular and dead? Grow up and stop bitching. Whatever happened to gratitude?_

"Was he married?" I blurted.

Chiron looked taken aback. "What?"

"Myles. Was he married?" I thought he was. I thought of him as a normal guy who was nice to me because I was his assignment. If he wasn't married, he probably had a girlfriend, or lived with some other female type who cared about him, a sister or mother or someone. He once gave me a homemade muffin when he was taking me to a different foster home, but I could not for the life of me imagine him baking. I didn't ask, and he didn't tell me, and we spent our time talking about inconsequential and impersonal things, like football. That man understood me awfully well. Oh, dear God—gods?—did he have any children?

Chiron looked down at his desk. "No," he finally replied, with an _It's not your fault_ look that already didn't bode well. "He had a fiancée."

I wasn't sure whether I ought to sit down and cry right then and there or run into a broom closet to do it. Instead, I tossed my finished cigarette and got out a new one. Silence descended. Everyone avoided looking at each other.

Finally, one of the boys on the couch—a Hispanic kid who looked about fifteen—stood up. "Hi," he said, hoarsely, as though he wasn't sure how to talk. "My name's Leo Valdez."

I blinked at him. There was something about him that was incredibly familiar. I'd known Hispanic people, but I didn't think that was it. "Hi, Leo Valdez."

Leo put on a smile that I didn't smack off his face because I recognized it as the _pretend everything's just dandy when your world has just shut down_ expression. "So good to meet you," he said, sounding vaguely like a talk show host. "This blond wonder-boy here is Jason. The lovely lady is Piper. Blondie over there is Annabeth. And last and very much least—"

"Excuse me?" the black-haired boy sputtered.

"Percy Jackson!" Leo Valdez threw his hands into the air as if he'd just made a home run. I watched in amazement as tension visibly dissolved in the room. Annabeth laughed and nudged Percy, who pouted and glared at Leo. This was serious talent at work here. "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Sandy!"

That was what was familiar, I realized. Something about Leo Valdez's likeable, friendly demeanor, his forced cheerfulness and hyper look—something in the elfish smile reminded me of someone I probably didn't want to be reminded of.

"Thanks," I said, smoking a bit more. Forget craving liquor—if I got my hands on a bottle of beer, I'd probably smash my face with it. Maybe it was caffeine I needed. The Valdez boy looked like he had plenty. "I feel very welcomed."

"All right!" Leo Valdez pumped his fist. "Who's ready for the tour?"

[IMAGINE FANCY LINE/DIVIDING SYMBOL]

"And here are the cabins," Leo announced grandly.

I looked around. There were kids hanging out by the campfire in the center, laughing and talking and being familiar in a way that made me want to lock myself in the bathroom. "Neat," I said, for lack of anything else to say. "So… uh."

Leo recognized my failure of a sentence as an attempt to prevent more awkward silences, so he took over. Smart boy. "There are tons of stuff we do here. Usually demigods get claimed within a day or two of arriving here, and when you do you'll live in a cabin with your siblings and do activities and stuff."

"Okay." I brought my cigarette up.

Percy and Annabeth couldn't have gotten away from me fast enough, which made me feel like a million bucks. Jason and Piper had tagged along for the tour, but after a while found an excuse to be elsewhere, which I could tell _didn't_ make Leo feel like a million bucks.

"All campers stay at the Hermes cabin first," Leo continued, gesturing at—I presumed—said cabin. "They're nice people. They'll probably let you get away with smoking for a while."

"That's great," I replied. When he looked mildly tired at my completely interesting tone of sameness, I added, "So who's your—uh—"

Leo took pity on me. "Godly parent?" He grinned, patting his tool belt. It looked empty, but at the same time it looked worn, used, even ripped and burned in some places, so I knew that he wasn't wearing it as decoration. "Hephaestus, god of forges and fire and craft and blacksmiths. We make things." He pointed out his cabin. "Not too glamorous, like the Apollo kids or the Aphrodite kids, but we're pretty buff and we're good with our hands." He wiggled his fingers.

I burst out laughing.

His face went blank. "What? What did I say?"

I patted him on the shoulder, which wasn't something I could do to anyone, since I was even more famous for my lack of height than Napoleon Bonaparte. "That was the most hilarious unintended pick-up line I've ever heard."

Leo stared at me for a long moment. Then he grinned. "We're _good_ with our _hands_, baby," he said, wiggling his eyebrows, and I completely lost it.

By the time I brought the cigarette up to my lips to calm myself down, we'd attracted attention. Most of them just seemed surprised that I was smoking. Two brothers—they had to be brothers—approached. "What, new camper?" the taller one asked. He had a smile a lot like Leo's, and shifty eyes I associated with people from the earlier part of my childhood.

"Yeah." Leo swallowed his laughter. "Sandy, meet Travis and Connor Stoll. They're the head counselors of the Hermes cabin. That one is Travis… I think." He pointed at a vague area between the two boys, so I wasn't sure which one he was referring to in the first place. "Stolls, this is Sandy Payne."

"So glad to meet you," Travis-I-think said.

"You'll probably be staying with us tonight," Maybe-Connor said. "Want to see the party cabin?"

Travis-I-think wrapped an arm around my shoulder and started steering me towards the Hermes cabin. "Come on, let us introduce you to the finest group of teenagers and children on the face of the earth."

I slapped his hand before it could get inside my hoodie pocket. "Nice try."

Travis-I-think and Maybe-Connor exchanged a look. I thought that they'd be annoyed that I caught their pick-pocketing, but they looked delighted. "I like her," Maybe-Connor decided, nodding as if I'd just passed a test, which made me more nervous than relieved.

"All right." Maybe-Connor leaned towards me conspiratorially, ignoring Leo. He was tall and lanky, so I ended up getting an eyeful of his obscure-punk-rock-band t-shirt while he whispered, "We like you, so any time you need more of that—" he nodded at my cigarette and winked. "You know who to ask."

"Whoa there," Leo said, pulling me out of Maybe-Connor's reach before he could go after my pockets again. "Guys, give her a couple of days before you induct her into the crime ring."

Travis-I-think grabbed my other arm. "Whatever," he laughed easily. "But it's nearly dinner and she's going to eat with us. You can flirt later, Valdez." When Leo went red and started to say that he _wasn't_, Travis-I-think laughed and slipped his hand towards my pocket. I slapped his hand again and stuck mine in said pocket to stop him from trying again. Hopefully he wouldn't start on the backpack.

"Bye, Leo," I called over my shoulder as Travis-I-think and Maybe-Connor (I really had got to get these two sorted out) sandwiched me and hustled me towards the Hermes cabin. Leo was the first person here to be nice to me for an extended period of time and take my shit, and I thought I at least owed him a wave. "Try that line out and tell me how it goes!"

I could hear Leo laughing behind me.

* * *

**Yes, I know that ending's rather crummy, but I'm tired and am not sure how else to do it. I'm also aware that I'm cheating by skipping completely over demigod explanations and descriptions of Camp Half-Blood with orientation videos and fancy lines. So sue me, I'm a lazy ass.**

**Also, this is my very first attempt at anything romance-centered. Any advice will be fantastic. AnyTHING will be fantastic.**

**Chocolate makes the world go 'round! Thank you and good night!**


	4. Chapter 4

**And... I'm still here! Still writing! Okay, maybe I don't need to add greetings at the top of every chapter.**

**But how can I not? I love you all!**

**AVeryHappyReader, THANK YOU for reviewing! I'll try to update quickly, but winter break's about to end so all my free time and all my sleep is about to vanish D: Well, I'll do my best. Here's to hoping!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

LEO

At dinner, Chiron stood up and announced Sandy's arrival. People clapped politely while the Stoll brothers lifted Sandy up onto their shoulders.

"Put me down!" she snapped, but she didn't seem too mad about it. "Put me down—Hey, you! Touch my backpack and you _die_."

She was no longer smoking, and she looked glad that Chiron had introduced her as "Sandy Payne" instead of Cynthia. Her eyes were a really clear blue, shimmering like sunlight glancing off water, even from all the way across the pavilion.

"Leo, come on," Jake said. I blinked and realized that we were getting up, and that I should stop staring at Sandy.

We lined up and took our turns tossing food into the brazier. A few moments after my cabin finished, I heard an outraged cry: "_What_ are you doing with that food?"

Nearly everyone turned around while Connor Stoll hastily attempted to explain to Sandy that they were burning food for the gods. "That's ridiculous!" Sandy snapped. "They're _gods_! Why can't they get their own food?"

"They're—you know—gods," Connor repeated, frantically trying to tip Sandy's plate over. Travis stared at the sky, muttering nervously. "Respect and all that. Very big on sacrifices."

"I'm not burning anything!" Sandy yanked her plate back. She blew a lock of hair out of her face. "There are people not ten minutes' drive away who don't know when their next meal is going to be, and here you are burning food!"

"Sandy," Connor said, desperate. "Zeus really, really doesn't like sacrilege. Could you just—"

But Sandy wasn't going to give in. Her eyes flashed. "They're gods! It's not like they can't get their own food and throw it into the brazier. This is so wasteful, and I don't even know who I'm doing this for, and—"

_Ka-BAM!_

There was a loud clap of thunder, and abruptly it was pouring rain. Kids at the edge of the pavilion hollered in shock and scrambled inward. Sandy looked up, startled, and Connor took advantage of that moment of distraction to snatch Sandy's plate and toss the whole thing into the fire.

"Hey!" Sandy yelped.

"She's really, really sorry!" Connor shouted to the sky.

"I am _not_!"

"Sandy, please be quiet," Travis begged as he started pulling her back towards the Hermes table.

"The new girl's nuts," Jake observed casually. I could barely hear him over the storm.

"She's been hungry," Nyssa snapped. Harley was squirming to get on the table and see, but Nyssa held his shoulders firmly. "I wasn't very pleased with this when I first got here, either. I just made more of an effort to keep my head down."

The downpour hadn't let up. Annabeth had made her way to Sandy and was shaking the girl. "Apologize!"

"Why?" Sandy shook her head furiously, curls flying. Her eyes were both frightened and obstinate. She looked uncomfortable in the center of attention. I noted that she hadn't put her backpack down yet. "I'm starving. Is it wrong to want a full plate of food? If this is how gods react, they need to grow up!"

Was it just me, or did the storm get a lot worse?

"Stop it! You're going to kill us all!" Annabeth shouted. The wind was whipping her hair around her head.

I couldn't see very well, but something in Sandy's face changed. All of a sudden she seemed shorter. She looked afraid. In pain, almost, as if Annabeth had punched her in the stomach.

And then I couldn't see anything, because she turned, plowed through the mildly panicking kids, and ran out into the storm.

"What the—" Connor swore and stumbled to the edge of the pavilion. "Sandy!" Even though I would have thought Sandy's hair would be a bit of a flag, the storm was so thick, the clouds so dense, that she vanished almost instantly, and no one was about to follow her.

"What in Tartarus is wrong with her?" Annabeth sounded almost defensive.

"Maybe we should get back to eating," Nyssa suggested delicately. Harley's shoulders dropped in disappointment.

"What else can we do?" Jake wondered.

[IMAGINE FANCY LINE/DIVIDING SYMBOL]

The storm stopped after most of us had finished dinner. Kids hurried back to their cabins, cursing the muddy ground and squelching grass. Chiron called a few satyrs over and sent them to find Sandy.

"She couldn't have run far," Chiron said, eyeing Annabeth.

But I was the one who found her, completely by accident. I'd left a toy I made for Harley in Bunker Nine and went through the woods to retrieve it, and I nearly walked straight past her until something caught my eye. Her socks were neon pink and extremely conspicuous.

For a few seconds I wondered if I ought to just get out of here. Then I felt stupid. She hadn't eaten dinner, for the gods' sake. "Uh, hi," I said.

Sandy was sitting cross-legged on a large rock by the creek, and she was soaked. Her hair lay thick and damp. Her clothes were several shades darker. Her arms were wrapped around her backpack. She blinked and looked at me and pushed a wet lock of hair out of her face. "What are you doing here, Leo?"

"Passing through," I said quickly. Maybe she would be less defensive if she knew I wasn't out looking for her intentionally. She raised her eyebrows skeptically, and I quickly continued. "There's a secret workshop in the woods—called Bunker Nine. For, you know, Cabin Nine. The Hephaestus cabin."

"Really."

"Come see for yourself," I shot back. Bunker Nine was supposed to be kept secret, but honestly by this point "secret" really meant "not publicly on the table." Everyone knew it existed. "I'm sure we have towels. You want to dry yourself off?"

Sandy shrugged. "I like rain." But she got off the rock and literally dripped her way over to stand beside me. "Okay, lead on, hotshot."

When we got to Bunker Nine, I waved my hands like a magician about to perform a trick. "Watch closely, insignificant mortal," I said, and lit my hands on fire. When Sandy gasped, I placed my hands on the rock and opened the door.

"Whoa!" She stared at my hands. "That's bloody awesome!" Her face broke into a brilliant grin. "Can all children of Hephaestus do that?"

I almost wanted to hide my hands behind my back, but Sandy's smile was beautiful. I got the sense that she didn't smile very often. "Um, no. It's really rare."

She turned to look at the door. "So… wait, how do other kids in your cabin open the door? Could you just use any fire?"

"I… I've never thought about it. I guess?"

Sandy stepped forward and pulled the doors closed. "Let's stop guessing." She pulled her lighter out of her pocket, lit herself a cigarette while she was at it, and placed the small flame on the lighter on the rock. The same thing happened, and the door swung open. "Well, there's the answer."

"Come on," I said, grabbing her elbow and pulling her inside before she could think up other ways to experiment with the door. "Stay out here and you'll catch a lovely cold."

She was so wet that her cigarette fizzled out, so she stuck it back into her pocket and stepped inside. "Sorry about that," she said, looking down at her muddy footprints.

I found a hairdryer and some towels in a pile of random gardening implements (Nyssa has varied interests) and handed them to her. "Don't worry about it. We're not neat kids. There should be a plug near that desk." Sandy nodded and stepped over to the aforementioned desk, and I started poking around my worktable for Harley's toy. The kid had better appreciate it—it had taken me hours to get the fine details right.

When I found it and turned around, I saw Sandy blowing hot air straight at her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her hair streaked back, and drops of water splattered the wall behind her. I started laughing.

She turned the hairdryer off and used the towels to mop water off of herself. Her cheeks were pink. "What?"

I forced myself to stop laughing. "You looked like a cat."

She stared at me, and I mentally slapped myself. What if she was really self-conscious? That was a stupid thing to say. I shouldn't have laughed at—

"A cat?" Sandy blinked. And smiled. And started laughing uncontrollably, which naturally set me off, until we were both giggling helplessly. "I—ha ha ha—had a cat—oh God—when I was little—ha ha ha ha—"

"Really?" I leaned against my worktable and nearly crushed Harley's toy.

She nodded. Her face was bright. "He was a lean gray tom, and he was always getting into fights with other people's pets. I called him Rudy, but my brother called him Johnny, and it was always really confusing to strangers…"

I couldn't stop grinning. "What happened to him?"

It was like the light abruptly went out behind her eyes. She stared blankly at the towels in her hands, and I knew I said something wrong. "He—well, my brother died, and we never saw Rudy again. I guess he was never really my cat..."

I didn't know what to say, and before I could Sandy had recovered, shaking her head. "Sorry," she said, even though I had no idea what she was apologizing for. She looked at me with a sort of quiet, melancholic air. "I'm famished. Are we allowed food after dinner?" she asked.

I nodded and cleared my throat. "If you know who to ask. Come on, let's go. Chiron must be worried."

* * *

**Again, all advice/flames/anything/random pieces of weirdness will all be appreciated, et cetera. Please please please, a writer needs criticism more than anything else!**

**Chocolate makes the world go 'round! Thank you and good night!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I told you it is highly likely that I would vanish for weeks on end, but I'm going to apologize anyway. I'm also going to apologize beforehand for the extreme shittiness (begging your pardon) of this chapter. My brain is dead, but I swore I would publish a chapter over the three-day-weekend, so here we are. I hope you don't hate me.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

SANDY

When I got to the Big House, as Leo called it, Chiron sat me down and explained that godly magic maintained this camp, so there were a few ground rules that the gods insisted on that I should do my best to follow. Doing otherwise and directly defying them puts everyone at risk. "Do you understand?" he asked at the end of the lecture, looking at me sternly.

"Follow the damn rules," I summarized. "Got it. Sorry."

Chiron still didn't comment on my swearing and smoking. I briefly wondered if he thought I was deliberately provoking him and didn't want to give me the satisfaction of seeing him aggravated. Or was he just that nice? Seemed like it. Before today I wouldn't have thought such patience possible.

"You should probably return to the Hermes cabin," he said gently, settling back in his wheelchair.

I nodded and got up. "Thank you, sir." And then I got out of there as quickly as I could manage.

Leo was waiting outside. Chiron had thanked him for bringing me back earlier, even though I protested that _Leo_ didn't bring me back, _I_ agreed to return with him. And then Leo was asked to leave, and by the frozen agreeable smile on his face, I gathered that he'd been used to getting shut outside.

"That didn't sound too bad," Leo commented when I reached him.

I punched him lightly on the arm. "I don't think you were supposed to be listening. Come on. I'm hungry. You were going to show me the path to my salvation."

Leo grinned and made a dramatic, sweeping bow. "After you, madam."

The "salvation" turned out to be Katie Gardner, who frowned and me and repeated Chiron's lecture with less "Do you understand?" and more "You scared the Tartarus out of me!" and then ushered us in. "Demeter kids like to show off their cooking," Leo whispered to me while Katie and several of her siblings bustled around a crowded but organized kitchenette. "But camp provides all the food. If you want snacks of any kind, this is the place to go."

"Sounds good," I said.

"My sister Nyssa told me," Leo added. "I'll introduce you. She doesn't hate you."

That's reassuring. "Okay."

"Hey! Stop smoking!" one of Katie's sisters leaned over and plucked the cigarette out of my fingers. "Do you know what this can do to you?"

"Um, yes." I took out another cigarette and lit it. "Trust me, I've had plenty of pros and cons discussions with myself about this."

"So why do you smoke? What pros are there?" the girl demanded.

I thought about it, inhaling smoke. "Commemoration." I was lying, but only a little. "I am continuing a legacy. My mother was a short, blond chain-smoker. Ergo, I am a short, blond chain-smoker. It's really not that hard to understand."

The girl placed her hands on her hips. "That's stupid."

"It certainly is," I agreed, breathing out smoke. The girl glared at me, not quite sure how to respond, then turned and shooed some younger children away from me.

"Don't worry, it's not just you," Leo said. He looked amused. His fingers tapped the table impatiently. "They'll bother you about anything. If it's not your cigarette, it'll be your hair, or your boots, or whether or not you wash your hands to their satisfaction—gods, what it takes to get a meal here," he concluded ruefully.

"I beg your pardon?" Katie Gardner demanded, standing before us. She had a plate in each hand, and the smell was Paradise itself.

Leo scrambled out of his chair into a kneeling position, and began to worship Katie Gardner. "Great apologies, Your Fantasticness. Please forgive us and shower us with your blessings and gifts."

Katie Gardner laughed and set the plates down before us. "I didn't know what you guys wanted, so I went with the comfort food sampler," she said. "If there's anything specific you need, just holler." Then she was gone, back in the kitchenette.

I stubbed my cigarette out on the table, held both hands to the sky, and proclaimed theatrically, "I am saved! Nevermore shall I suffer from this dreadful hunger! Life has meaning once again!"

"You're welcome," Leo told me. He was trying not to laugh, since his mouth was already half-full. "Now eat it before it gets cold."

I speared a piece of bread with my knife and shook it at him. "It's a good habit to appreciate everything you get as much as possible." Then I took his advice and ate everything.

[IMAGINE FANCY LINE/DIVIDING SYMBOL]

I barely made it back to the Hermes cabin in time for lights-out. Travis and Connor instantly crowded me and told me that they were worried sick, all the while trying to unzip my backpack discreetly. I jabbed my cigarette at them until they left me alone, and then found a corner where I could spread out the sleeping bag Travis lent me and not worry about too many vulnerable sides.

Who was I kidding? I was in a strange camp, in a strange cabin, surrounded by strangers who lived in a strange world. I would always be too vulnerable.

_Watch your back_, words echoed in my head. I kept my back against a wall and cradled my backpack on my lap. _Literally and figuratively. Never trust someone else to watch out for you. You never know how long you can count on them. In a possibly hostile situation, always have your back to a wall, and make sure that's a solid wall. Have all your potential exits in sight. Always be ready_.

_Stop_, I snapped at the voice. I'm supposed to be safe here. This is the haven for demigods, for people like me.

But this place kept me safe from monsters. What about everything else? Such as accidentally setting a cabin on fire while I was in it, for example. I quickly extinguished the cigarette.

"Lights out, kids!" Travis called.

I slept in the fetal-seated position the entire night, which meant my back was killing me the next morning. I vaguely registered Connor trying to pull my backpack from my arms and punched him in the face on instinct. He flailed and laughed and told me that it was time to get up.

"Breakfast, Sandy," he said, beckoning. "Come on. Up you get. Everyone line up!"

"You should get claimed soon," Travis told me as we shuffled forward in the long line tossing food into the braziers. "Demigods are usually claimed within a day or two. All the newer ones, anyway."

When it was my turn, I scraped perhaps a couple of strawberries into the fire. I never liked strawberries anyway.

"Why don't you offer a little more?" Connor urged. "Unclaimed demigods usually offer a little more so that their godly parent would want to claim them quickly."

I gave him a look, and he backed off. Truth be told, I wasn't too anxious to get claimed. I liked Travis and Connor, and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to know who had a drunken one-night stand with my mother. Plus, if my godly parent didn't care, why should I?

After breakfast, I went through the activities along with the rest of the Hermes cabin. This was what I discovered: I sucked at everything demigods did. I could not operate bows and arrows. I had the artistic talent of a blind three-year-old. I could not get onto a pegasus even with a stool. I barely managed to heft a javelin.

And sword-fighting? After Connor found a sword that I could swing without dislocating my shoulders, we were paired up with kids from the Ares cabin.

"Maybe Sandy should sit this one out," Travis suggested. "She's new."

"She'll learn," the Ares cabin counselor, Clarisse something-or-other, countered. "Sherman, you go with her."

"Wait!" Connor sputtered. "Why _Sherman_?"

"Their names both start with S," Clarisse said in a no-nonsense tone, and then talked right over any other objections there might have been. "Come on, everyone. Try to practice the maneuver we went over yesterday."

The Sherman boy was tall, broad-shouldered, and tanned, and it was obvious he spent a lot of time with a sword. "The maneuver's pretty advanced, so you don't have to worry about it for now," he told me. "Just do your best."

"My best" had me sword-less in about half a second. "Again," Sherman said.

"So you're named after William Tecumseh Sherman?" I asked, picking up sword. "As in Sherman's March to the Sea?"

"Who cares?" Sherman shot back.

I shrugged, gripping my sword tightly, bracing myself for another light-speed impact. "I imagine old Sherman would. He revolutionized modern warfare."

Sherman looked at me for a long moment. Then he laughed and said, "Hold your sword up higher. You'd have no time to deflect your opponent's attacks if you keep it that low." When I did as he said, he continued. "You're too small, so you'll always need two hands on your sword. Put your whole body into your swings."

"Got it," I said, getting absolutely none of it.

He swung his sword again, but this time, instead of standing there like an idiot, I ducked. The blade went over my head and sheared off a few strands of my hair. He frowned at me and tried it again. This time I jumped back. My reflexes were kicking in. I had been taught this. My stepfather trained me to dodge bullets. I could avoid a three-foot piece of metal.

"Not bad," Sherman admitted when time was up. "It won't make you a master swordsman, but it'll probably keep you alive."

That was probably supposed to cheer me up, but instead I thought about how I couldn't even get one stab in through the entire sparring session, and realized that I was probably the only person on earth bad enough for Sherman to feel obliged to reassure me. "Thanks," I said anyway, putting the sword back on the table.

Sherman shook his head. "It's your first time, and you're not dead. You'll be fine."

But the kids around me—even Hermes kids—looked like they rolled out of bed with a sword at the ready. This wasn't something one learns, and it certainly wasn't something I could learn. I had never fought in my entire life; I was simply too short and too weak for that. When in doubt, I ran. I would never make a good demigod.

Which was why I wasn't surprised that it took a week for my godly parent to claim me.

* * *

**Once again, I apologize profusely for how badly this chapter is written, but I feel as though this is somewhat of a filler chapter and I honestly wasn't sure what was supposed to happen. Hopefully next chapter would be better. Hopefully I'll find my brain and reboot it up and save us all the pain of this senseless writing.**

**Chocolate makes the world go 'round! Thank you and good night!**


End file.
